


The Ink Under My Skin

by rainsoakedshoes



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alpha Derek, Derek is a Good Alpha, Emissary Stiles Stilinski, Everyone Is Alive, Happy Ending, Kinda?, M/M, Magical Stiles Stilinski, Tattooed Stiles, Tattoos, Violence, Witch!Stiles, unnamed character death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-06
Updated: 2014-12-06
Packaged: 2018-02-28 08:42:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,430
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2725958
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rainsoakedshoes/pseuds/rainsoakedshoes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Derek is looking for an Emissary. What he finds is Stiles Stilinski; resident witch. </p>
<p>Stiles would do whatever it takes to protect the Hale pack and his Alpha. </p>
<p>***</p>
<p>“I want to protect my pack as well as I can,” Derek continued. “Emissaries traditionally keep balance, having someone who wants to tip the odds in our favour may come in handy.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Ink Under My Skin

**Author's Note:**

  * For [alis](https://archiveofourown.org/users/alis/gifts).
  * Translation into 中文 available: [The Ink Under My Skin](https://archiveofourown.org/works/4175466) by [SeijiShun](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SeijiShun/pseuds/SeijiShun)



> title taken from the song Birds Of A Feather by The Civil Wars. 
> 
> in this the pack goes up against a group of hunters and it does get very violent, so proceed with caution.
> 
> you can listen to the accompanying fanmix [here](http://8tracks.com/heavenlyhale/the-ink-under-my-skin)

The house was a small two story place, with an overgrown front garden. It was early spring and most of the flowers were in bloom, pots of herbs lined the front steps, basking in the morning sun. The smell of the plants was nothing compared to the smell of the magic that surrounded the place. It was hard to describe, but magic had a particular scent to it, and it flooded Derek’s senses.

Derek walked up the path to the front door. The green paint was peeling, and Derek could see symbols carved into the wood. The curtains in the windows were drawn, and Derek couldn’t see into the house. There was an old jeep parked in the driveway; Derek’s only indication that someone was home.

The door flew open before Derek had a chance to knock and the werewolf rolled his eyes. He had been warned that this Stilinski kid was prone to dramatics.

“Come in!” A voice called from further in the house.

Derek stepped over the threshold. “Hello?” he said.

“Hello!” the same cheery voice yelled out.

The entryway was dimly lit and the scent of magic was stronger in the house. However the magic and the mysterious voice talking to him didn’t worry Derek. He had been through a lot and it would take more than a few tricks from a witch to impress him.

Derek headed down the hall, towards the kitchen where he could hear someone moving around. He was careful not to dislodge any of the stacks of books and boxes piled haphazardly against the walls. If Derek had thought the hall was cramped then the kitchen was overflowing. Every available surface was covered; either with jars, or potted plants, or stacks of more books. Derek looked around but no one was in the kitchen, he was sure he’d heard a heartbeat and someone moving around.

“Hello?” Derek called again. He moved further into the kitchen and picked up a book from the table. He was surprised to see it was a new edition of _It_ by Stephen King, and not some old magic tome.

There was a door from the kitchen leading out to the back porch and Derek picked up the sound of a heartbeat. He put the book down and headed over to open the door. The moment his hand touched the door knob a voice shouted from behind him.

“Gotcha!”

Derek whirled around, bumping into the edge of the counter in the process and sending a jar flying off. The jar stopped just before it hit the floor, and Derek watched as it floated back up onto the counter top. Derek looked up to see a young man grinning broadly at him.

“I’ve been practicing throwing the sound of my heartbeat,” The young man explained. “I’m pretty proud that I managed to fool an Alpha werewolf.”

“You’re Stiles?” Derek asked.

“Yep.” Stiles snapped his fingers and a stack of books on the table disappeared, only to reappear on the floor at Derek’s feet. Stiles sat on the table in the free space he had just created. “And you’re Derek Hale.”

Derek looked at the witch before him. Stiles was a lot younger than Derek had expected, but it was always hard to tell the ages of those with magic; something about their power kept them youthful, and many of them used spells and potions to enhance that even further. Stiles was dressed in dark blue jeans and a grey t-shirt. Derek’s eyes were drawn to the tattoos that snaked their way down both of Stiles’ arms.

“Are you going to ask what you came here to ask? Or are you just going to stare at me?” Stiles asked cheerfully. He was delighted to note that the tips of Derek’s ears went pink when he blushed.

“My pack is in need of an emissary,” Derek paused. “I was hoping you would step in, even if it’s just temporarily.”

“Why me?” Stiles hopped back down off the table and made his way over to the fridge.

“You worked with Deaton for a while,” Derek started, but was interrupted by a scoff from Stiles.

“I doubt old Alan gave me a glowing recommendation,” Stiles said.

“No, he didn’t,” Derek admitted. “He said you were reckless and took too much interest in the conflicts between packs.”

“And yet here you are,” Stiles closed the fridge with a bump of his hip, a can of soda in one hand and a bottle of a strange yellow liquid in the other. “You must really be desperate for an emissary.”

“Actually,” Derek stepped over the pile of books to join Stiles by the fridge. “You’re the only person I’ve considered for emissary.”

Stiles raised an eyebrow and cocked his head to the side. Derek noticed Stiles’ tattoos peeking out from under the collar of his t-shirt.

“I want to protect my pack as well as I can,” Derek continued. “Emissaries traditionally keep balance, having someone who wants to tip the odds in our favour may come in handy.”

Stiles laughed. “You don’t want an emissary,” he said. “You just want a witch.” The jar of yellow liquid hovered in the air while Stiles opened his can of soda. “You and I both know I wouldn’t be a very good emissary if I didn’t try to keep the balance.”

Derek shrugged. He had seen his pack decimated once, he was going to do whatever he could to make sure that never happened again. Even if it meant going against the unspoken laws of the supernatural.

“From what I’ve heard you wouldn’t be a very good emissary even if you _did_ try to keep the peace,” Derek said, grinning at Stiles.

Stiles returned the grin. “I’m not saying yes yet, but I do want to meet the rest of your pack,” he told Derek.

Stiles had been curious about the Hale pack since Derek had begun to truly rebuild it. He knew a bit about the mismatched group already, but meeting them properly wasn’t an opportunity he would pass up.

“We can arrange that,” Derek said. He knew that the pack would be eager to meet any potential emissary, or ally.

“Fantastic!”

And with that Stiles vanished. Derek was left standing alone in the kitchen.

“Feel free to let yourself out!” Stiles’ voice called from upstairs. At least Derek thought it was coming from upstairs.

***

Stiles moved through the forest silently. The light from the full moon illuminated the path towards the Hale house. He half expected to run into some of the wolves in the woods, but the night was still young, the pack could have been waiting to go out.

The lights were on in the Hale house, and as Stiles got closer he could hear a number of voices all shouting and talking over each other. As he ascended the steps up onto the front porch he allowed his feet to make noise again. All the voices stopped at once when the werewolves heard his footsteps.

The door opened to reveal Derek, several figures looming behind him. Derek was obviously surprised to see him and Stiles grinned. Walking into the wolfs’ den unannounced and uninvited, on the night of a full moon, had clearly thrown the Alpha and his pack.

“You going to invite me in?” Stiles asked.

Derek stepped aside and his betas followed his lead, allowing Stiles to enter the house.

“I’ll introduce you to everyone,” Derek said. The betas were still eyeing Stiles warily.

Derek led the way through the house and into a large living space. “Guys,” Derek addressed the whole pack at once. “This is Stiles, who I was telling you about.”

All eyes were on Stiles, including Derek’s. Stiles wondered what kind of things Derek had told his pack. He looked around at the people watching him. Derek was the oldest of the pack, but Stiles knew enough about werewolves to now that age wasn’t always an indication of Alpha status. Stiles was interested to see how the pack worked together. The supernatural world wasn’t an escape from petty gossip, and Stiles knew through word of mouth there were new additions to the Hale pack.

Stiles pointed to a girl with straight, dark hair, who was watching him with a smile on her face. “Kitsune,” he said. Stiles could sense her aura and was surprised. “You guys tend not to play well with wolves.” That was an understatement. Stiles had never heard of Kitsune’s and werewolves coexisting together in a pack before. Within minutes of meeting them the Hale pack had already captured his attention; an impressive feat.  

The young woman shrugged. “We get along just fine when we want to.”

“That’s Kira,” Derek told Stiles.

“What else have you got hidden in your pack?” Stiles asked, looking around again at those watching him intently. “Not all of you are werewolves.”

“Scott, Boyd, Erica, Isaac, Jackson, Cora, and Liam, are werewolves,” Derek said, pointing to each of the betas in turn. “Malia is a werecoyote,” Derek pointed to a young woman who was eyeing Stiles with distrust. Stiles was well aware that it could be difficult to gain a coyote’s trust.

“I’m a banshee,” the redhead who was sitting on the armrest of one of the couches said. “My name’s Lydia.”

Stiles took a few steps closer to Lydia. “I’ve never met a banshee in person before,” he said. “I’m glad the lore about them all being old women is wrong.” Lydia rolled her eyes and crossed her arms, although she had a slight smile tugging at her lips.

“And you?” Stiles turned to the last of the pack, he sensed no supernatural energy. “Human?” It wasn’t unusual for werewolf packs to have humans. And after seeing the rest of the pack Stiles wasn’t surprised to find a human amongst them

“Hunter,” she corrected with a smile, dimples piercing her cheeks.

That did surprise Stiles. He turned to look at Derek with a raised eyebrow. “You have a hunter under your roof?”

Derek had his arms crossed and nodded. He chose his words carefully. “Allison’s proved herself. She’s part of this pack.” Stiles could tell from Derek’s tone there was a story behind Allison’s presence, but he decided not to press the issue at that moment.

Stiles sat in a free armchair, he put his feet up on the coffee table and made himself at home.

“You don’t look like a witch,” Jackson said.

“Sorry, I left my broomstick and black cat at home today,” Stiles replied. “Fluffy doesn’t like dogs.”

Jackson started to rise to his feet but a warning growl from Derek saw him sit again.

“Are you going to be our emissary?” Kira asked.

“I haven’t decided yet.” That wasn’t completely true, but if any of the werewolves picked up on the slight deception none of them said anything. He liked the idea of being connected to the Hale pack, but, to use Derek’s words, only if he could use his powers to tip the odds in the packs favour. Stiles didn’t want to be an unbiased bystander trying to maintain order.

He didn’t like the title Emissary. But he would happily be known as the packs witch.

“Can you really make yourself vanish?” Liam asked. The young beta was sitting on the floor in front of the couch. He looking up at Stiles suspiciously, as though he had been lied to and Stiles couldn’t really vanish at all.

Stiles nodded, then demonstrated his talent by disappearing and reappearing behind Derek, who was still standing in the entry way to the living room. Stiles had to give Derek credit because the werewolf was only slightly startled by Stiles’ sudden appearance.

“Cool,” Scott said, a bright smile on his face. “What else can you do?”

“Tell you what,” Stiles’ grin was back. “If you can catch me, I’ll show you what I can do.” Without another word Stiles vanished again.

From his place just inside the tree line of the woods, Stiles watched the Hale house. He didn’t have to wait long before the back door opened and the pack spilled out onto the back porch; apparently up for the challenge of hunting Stiles through the woods.

The pack ran across the clearing and towards the woods where Stiles was. Derek led the pack, there werewolves and the kitsune just behind him. Stiles was impressed to see that Malia could shift into a real coyote. The banshee and the hunter came up the rear, walking at a much more leisurely pace; there was a crossbow in Allison’s hands. Stiles waited until Derek was within feet of him before he disappeared again.

“Use your noses, not your ears,” Stiles heard Derek warn the betas.

Stiles laughter echoed through the woods as the pack tried to catch him.

The game went on like that for about an hour. There were a few close calls; Stiles accidentally appeared right in front of Isaac at one point, and only narrowly avoided being grabbed by the other man. Then one of Allison’s arrows went flying past Stiles’ head.

“You’re trying to catch me!” Stiles shouted. “Not kill me!”

“If I wanted to kill you, you’d be dead!” Allison’s voice came ringing through the air from somewhere to Stiles’ left.

Stiles didn’t have a chance to retaliate to that, because the next thing he knew he was being tackled from behind.

“Gotcha,” Derek said in Stiles’ ear.

“Clever,” Stiles huffed. His cheek was pressed into the dirt. Derek’s heavy weight on top of him, and the werewolf’s grip on his wrist, was preventing him from moving; he hadn’t mastered moving himself and another person yet. “Using Allison to distract me. Very clever.”

Derek lifted himself up so his weight wasn’t all of Stiles, but effectively kept Stiles pinned. Not that Stiles had any intention of disappearing now that he had been caught.

It didn’t take long for the rest of the pack to find them since Stiles had stopped bouncing around.

“I promise not to vanish again if you let me up,” Stiles said.

Derek stood up and extended a hand down to Stiles. The werewolf easily pulled Stiles to his feet.

“Are you going to show us what you can do now?” Scott asked.

“Unless that’s all he can actually do,” Jackson said. “Just moving from one place to another.”

The words had barely left Jackson’s mouth and Stiles had him pinned to the trunk of a large tree. Jackson growled and struggled against the invisible force holding him still. Stiles laughed.

“Stiles,” Derek said in warning.

“Don’t worry,” Stiles told him. “I won’t hurt him.” With that Stiles let Jackson go, and the werewolf slumped to the ground.

Stiles turned in a slow circle to assess the other pack members. They were all watching him, more curious than wary now. With a flick of his wrist Stiles had Lydia floating three feet in the air.

“Put me down!” Lydia exclaimed, although she didn’t sound scared, just annoyed.

Stiles did what he was told and gently lowered Lydia back to the ground.

“Malia?” Stiles asked. “Do you mind telling me what the date is?”

Malia raised an eyebrow at Stiles but she opened her mouth to tell him anyway. However no sound came out. Malia put her hand around her neck and tried to speak again, but still no sound. Another flick of Stiles’ wrist brought Malia’s voice back in time to catch the tail end of Malia cursing Stiles out. The werecoyote had a smile on her face.  

“Enough for now,” Derek said firmly.

No one argued when Derek started to lead the way back to the house. Scott slung his arm around Stiles’ shoulder and started asking about how far he could teleport (half a mile was his limit). Erica walked on Stiles’ other side and asked if he’d make her levitate next (yes, when Derek wasn’t looking).

***

Stiles slipped into life with the pack easily after that. It felt natural to be around them. Stiles, quite literally, popped in and out of the Hale house whenever the mood struck him. Members of the pack also found any excuse to come and visit Stiles at his home (although they did back off on doing that after Jackson lost his eyebrows after messing around with one of Stiles’ potions).

One Sunday afternoon, about a month after Stiles’ first meeting with Derek, Stiles was sitting on the back porch of the Hale house with Lydia. The rest of the pack were spread out across the grass, doing training drills.

Derek had the pack paired up and sparring.

Scott and Boyd were circling each other, waiting for a moment to strike. Allison had Jackson pinned to the ground, a fake ring dagger poised above him. Liam and Isaac were wrestling. Erica was dodging swings of Kira’s wooden sword. Malia was lunging for Cora who leapt out of her reach at the last moment.

“Don’t you train with them?” Stiles asked Lydia.

“I do self-defence lessons and weapons training,” Lydia said. “But I don’t do sparring matches.”

“Cora!” Derek yelled. “Don’t get cocky!” But it was too late. Cora had been laughing and Malia had used it to her advantage, taking Cora down in a hard tackle.

Fifteen minutes later Derek was directing Jackson on how to best disarm a hunter with knives, when Isaac and Liam got bored with sparring with each other. The two beta’s exchanged a look then charged towards Derek.

Derek turned sharply and caught Isaac by the arm then threw him to the ground. Liam managed to grab Derek’s other arm, but it didn’t take much for the Alpha to pin Liam to the ground.

“Looks like training is over,” Lydia said, closing her book and putting it on the table next to her.

“What do you mean?” Stiles asked.

Lydia just nodded towards the rest of the pack. The answer soon became apparent. Everyone had noticed what Liam and Isaac had done, and were all running towards Derek as well. Derek held his own against them for a few minutes, but it soon became too much. The pack pinned Derek to the ground, piling on top of each other; Erica perched on top of them.  

One by one the pack all got back up and headed towards the house, leaving Derek lying on the ground.

“I think you guys broke my ribs that time!” Derek shouted, stretching his body before standing up.

The pack were all gathered on the porch, sitting in the chairs or just on the ground, drinking out of bottles of water. Derek jogged up and snatched the bottle of water out of Isaac’s hand, guzzling half of it down in one go.

“Hey!” Isaac complained.

“You’ll get over it,” Derek said, tossing the bottle back to Isaac.

Isaac rolled his eyes, but both he and Derek were smiling.

Derek pulled off his sweaty and dirt and grass stained t-shirt, dropping it to the ground at his feet. Stiles would be lying if he said he wasn’t appreciating the sight of Derek shirtless for the first time. Derek turned around – Stiles briefly lamented the loss of the view of Derek’s abs – and Stiles’ eyes were drawn to the tattoo between Derek’s shoulder blades; three interlocked spirals inked in black on Derek’s otherwise blemish free skin.

“What’s your tattoo mean?” Stiles asked. He knew what a triskele was, and he knew about its importance in different cultures. However he was curious to learn what it meant to Derek.

“It’s a triskele,” Derek said.

Before he could elaborate further, several of the pack members interrupted. “Alpha, Beta, Omega,” they recited in unison.

“Yeah,” Derek let out an amused sigh. “That.”

“It serves to remind us that Beta’s can rise to be Alpha’s, and that Alpha’s can fall to be Beta’s or even Omega’s,” Scott finished Derek’s usual speech.

“What do yours mean?” Lydia asked, gesturing to Stiles’ arms.

“Which ones?” Stiles stood up and pulled his own t-shirt off over his head. The full extent of the tattoos on his arms were revealed. There were black bands around his wrists and elbows, the bands on his left arm were connected by a winding vine of ivy. The ivy continued up Stiles’ left bicep and over his shoulder, finally stopping on his left shoulder blade. He had a half sleeve on his right arm; the most prominent part was his shoulder where honeysuckle flowers bloomed. There was also a line of tattoos up his spine. A line of script that looped around his neck like a necklace completed Stiles’ tattoo collection.

“The ones on your back?” Scott asked.

“Protection and healing runes,” Stiles said.

Derek walked around Stile, attempting the find the best position to view Stiles’ tattoos from. The ones on his back looked like the symbols Stiles had carved into the front door of his house.

“Do they actually work?” Allison had her hand outstretched towards Stiles, like she wanted to touch the tattoos. The whole pack was surrounding him.

Stiles nodded. “To some extent,” he said.

“Is that Ivy?” Lydia asked.

Stiles nodded again. “Ivy is resilient, always spreading and growing.” Most of his tattoos had some kind of meaning to him, even the smaller designs that made up his half sleeve.

“The flowers on your other arm?” Boyd asked.

“Honeysuckle,” Derek answered before Stiles could. “In old superstitions it’s said that honeysuckle growing in your garden will protect it, and in extension your house, from evil.” 

“Exactly,” Stiles smiled.

“The words around your neck?” Malia was up close in Stiles’ personal space “They’re not in English?”

Stiles ran his fingers over the words at the base of his throat. “It’s Latin,” Stiles explained. “An incantation. One of the first my mother taught me, the first one I mastered. Do you want to see what it does?”

Everyone nodded and Stiles laughed. He turned to a pot plant that was sitting on the edge of the porch, a dried up fern was planted in it, and he pointed at it. It had been a long time since Stiles had needed to say the words out loud; just the intention was enough. As everyone watched the leaves of the fern unfurled and turned from brown to green. 

“You brought it back to life,” Derek said, sounding awed.

“No,” Stiles shook his head. “There was still life in it, I just rejuvenated it. Plants are easy, the more complex something is biologically the harder it is to make that spark of life bigger.”

“It’s still amazing,” Scott said.

Everyone nodded in agreement and Stiles could feel himself blushing. It had been a while since his magic had been praised so highly. Deaton and other emissaries he had trained with had focused on his ‘misuse’ of magic. The Hale pack supported him in using his magic the way he wanted to.

*

After four months it was normal for Stiles to spend a lot of his free time at the Hale house. Scott had joked about him moving in, but Stiles liked having his own place; a space that was just his. Though as time went on he like being alone less and less.

The pack were sitting around the kitchen – Stiles was sitting on the counter top – when Allison came in.

“Where have you been?” Scott asked.

“My dad called,” Allison said. “It’s not good news.”

Derek immediately stood up, as though he expected an army of hunters to come rushing in at any moment. “What’s going on?”

“He’s heard some rumours,” Allison sat down in the chair Isaac vacated for her. “Some hunters out of Nevada might be planning an attack.”

“I thought no hunters would come here since you and your dad are protecting the pack,” Stiles said. He was slowly getting a grip on the complicated relationship Allison and Chris Argent had with the Hale pack, but he was certain he didn’t have anywhere near the full story yet.

Allison sighed. “They’re not supposed to,” she explained. “Dad and I organised a treaty with most of the hunters we knew; we would stay in Beacon Hills and protect it. A lot of hunters think all werewolves should be killed though, regardless of whether they’ve posed a threat or not. They think Dad and I are soft for not destroying the pack.”

“Can your dad talk to them?” Derek asked, knowing, even as he said the words, what the answer would be.  

“He’s going to try but…” Allison trailed off.

“But they probably won’t listen,” Derek finished for her.

“So what now?” Cora was the first one to speak after a long while.

Derek scrubbed a hand across his face. “From now on none of us go anywhere alone,” Derek said. “Groups of two or three.”

“We’re going to use the buddy system?” Jackson asked dubiously, but he was quickly silenced with a glare from Derek.

“They’ll want to do it as easily as possible,” Derek continued. “That means separating us and picking us off one by one. We’re not going to let that happen.” Derek turned to Stiles. “Is there anything you can do to help?”

Stiles hopped down off the counter. “I can do some pre-emptive spells,” he said. “They’ll help protect you when you’re out of the house, but if the hunters already know the exact location of the house I can’t do much for that. If you know exactly who the hunters are then I could try and cast spells that are specific to them.”

“I’ll see what I can find out,” Allison told him.

“We’re going to be okay,” Derek said, addressing the whole pack. “A few hunters aren’t going to be any match for us.”

***

Two days later Derek and Liam came home to find Stiles sitting on the front porch. He was carving something into the front door.

“What the hell are you doing?” Derek demanded.

“Runes,” Stiles said, like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

“Like the ones on your back?” Liam asked.

“Same basic principle,” Stiles nodded.

“Will they stop people from getting in?” Liam walked up to the door to inspect Stiles’ handy work up close.

“No,” Stiles admitted.

“Then what do they do?” Liam was running his fingers across the scratches in the door frame now.

“It’s like how the tattoo’s work; they won’t guarantee that I won’t get hurt, but if I do get hurt they’ll give me a fighting chance of being able to heal.” Stiles looked at Derek. “I know you rebuilt the house from ashes,” he said. “I know what the hunters did last time. If I can help stop that from happening again, I’m going to try.”

Derek edged Liam out of the way so he could run his own hand over the runes. “They’ll help stop the house from being destroyed?”

“They’ll help hold it together long enough for us to do something to prevent it,” Stiles shrugged.

“Thanks,” Derek said.

“It’s not much.” Stiles looked at the ground.

“It’s tons,” Derek told him, placing a hand on Stiles’ shoulder.

“Come on,” Liam said. “Let’s go inside. I’m hungry.” The beta pushed past the two older men to open the front door and walk inside.

Derek rolled his eyes and followed Liam into the house. Stiles pocketed his knife and traipsed behind.

***

When Allison returned from a meeting with her father and the other hunters Derek knew from the look on her face that it had gone badly.

“They’re coming for us, aren’t they?” Derek asked, putting the book he had been holding down.

Allison looked at the ground and nodded. “These hunters are old school,” she said. “Like my grandfather was, their ultimate goal is extermination.”

Derek swore under his breath and looked at Scott, who was watching the exchange.

“How much time to we have?” Scott asked.

“A week,” Allison told them. “At most. Maybe less if they already have they have the weapons and the people they need. The upside to this is they see us as a serious threat,” she shrugged. “They’re flying hunters in from other states.”

“Christ.” Derek ran a hand through his hair. “Okay,” he said. “Okay. Round everyone up. We need to prepare for what’s coming.”

Both Allison and Scott nodded and left the room. Derek fished his phone out of his pocket and dialled Stiles’ number.

“Hello,” Stiles answered cheerfully.

“Allison got more bad news,” Derek said. “We’ve got maybe a week before hunters turn up.”

“Always so nice to hear from you Derek,” Stiles deadpanned. “Is there anything I can do?”

“No,” Derek admitted. “Everyone’s gathering at the house, we’re going to run through some plans. Although there’s not much we can do but sit and wait. I’d still rather if everyone stuck close to the house, so we can keep an eye on each other.”

“You know I’m always looking for an excuse to hang around the house,” Stiles said. Derek could picture him leaning up against the counter in his kitchen, carefully avoiding knocking anything over.

“You never need an excuse,” Derek said. “You can come over any time.”

“I’m on my way,” Stiles told him. “Even if there’s nothing I can do right now it’ll be good for everyone to be together to run over the plans.”

“See you soon Stiles.”

“See you soon Derek.”

***

The hunters gave the pack five days to prepare.

Derek was in the kitchen with Lydia when the back door flew open, and Isaac and Boyd came sprinting in.

“Hunters,” Isaac panted. “Lots of them.”

“Where?” Derek asked. His nostrils flared as he registered the scent of Isaac’s blood running down his arm from a bullet wound.

“Coming from the west through the woods, on foot,” Boyd said.  

Derek grabbed Isaac’s injured arm too look more closely at the bullet wound. The wound had already healed and the only evidence that remained was Isaac’s blood. “They’re not using wolfsbane bullets,” Derek said.

Isaac shrugged and took his arm back from Derek. “They’re probably waiting ‘til they get closer.”

“Lydia,” Derek turned to the banshee. “You and Boyd go get Stiles. Isaac, you and I are going to round everybody else up.”

“We’re going to fight,” Isaac said.

It wasn’t a question, but Derek answered anyway. “Of course we are.” They could sit and wait for the hunters to attack first, or they could strike first. Derek was done sitting and waiting. 

***

Stiles knew something was wrong the moment he saw Lydia at his front door. The usually composed young woman was fidgeting and looked more than a little frazzled.

“Hunters are on the way to the house,” Lydia told Stiles. “They might already be there.”

“Give me one second.” Stiles darted back into the house and retrieved a bag full of things he had prepared in case a situation like this arose. He had some things already at the Hale House, but he figured they could never be too prepared.

“What’s all that?” Boyd asked as they headed to her car.

“Just my bag of party tricks,” Stiles joked.

None of them laughed.

The drive back to the Hale house was tense. Lydia gripped the steering wheel so tight her knuckles turned white.

“You want to scream, don’t you?” Stiles asked from the backseat.

Lydia nodded. “I can feel it coming,” she said.

“Do you know who?” Boyd asked.

“No,” Lydia said. “Sometimes the name is clear, other times it’s just this feeling of impending death.” There was silence for a few moments then Lydia spoke again. “I think there’s going to be more than one death.”

Boyd put a hand on Lydia’s shoulder and Lydia’s grip eased up on the wheel a little. “We’re all gonna be okay,” Boyd said.

The drive back to the Hale house was silent.

***

The pack were waiting on the back porch when Stiles, Lydia, and Boyd got back to the house. Derek started to fill them in on what was happening right away.

“They’re in the woods,” Derek said. “About 600 yards out. They’re not spread out too thin. I think our best bet is to split up into two groups, then come at them from behind.”

No one argued with Derek’s plan. One of their options was to wait until the hunters got closer, but no one really wanted to let them any closer to the house than they already were.

“Do we have any idea how many are out there?” Stiles asked.

“Twenty five or thirty of them,” Scott said.

“I like those odds.” Stiles dropped his bag to the ground and pulled off his jacket so he could move more freely.

“Okay, split up,” Derek said. The pack moved off the porch and easily split into two.

Next to Stiles, Malia pulled her shirt up over her head. Stiles looked away quickly and heard Allison and Erica laugh. The noise sounded off; laughter didn’t belong in that moment. When Stiles looked back Malia was in full coyote form beside him.

The pack started heading towards the forest. Stiles fell into step next to Derek. “Stiles, I want you with Scott and Cora,” Derek pointed to where the two betas were leading the second group. They were heading in the opposite direction to Derek.

Stiles opened his mouth to argue, but Derek was already running off into the dark. Stiles cursed, then sprinted after Scott.

The moon was only a thin sliver in the sky and did little to illuminate the forest. It worked to benefit the werewolves in the pack, who could see well enough in the dark. Stiles however, despite his magic, still had human vision. He stumbled over a tree root, before he could hit the ground though Scott’s hand was wrapped around his bicep, yanking him upright again.

Stiles couldn’t risk trying to vanish and sneak up on the hunters yet. They weren’t exactly sure where the hunters were, and Stiles didn’t want to chance giving away their position by popping up in front of one of them.

Cora was leading them and turned sharply to the left. Scott left Stiles and jogged up to her side. Both their eyes were glowing gold, and in the distance Stiles could see two pin pricks of red glowing in the dark.

The two groups were coming back together behind the hunter’s camp. By splitting up they had made sure none of the hunters were patrolling further out. They were sure they had all of the hunters contained in one place.

Derek gave a signal to his betas and they started heading back to where the hunters were.

As the pack got closer they could see and hear the hunters better. It was a group of men and women, all organising their weapons and discussing their tactics. They weren’t in a clearing, they were set up in amongst the trees so it was difficult to get a line of sight on them all at the same time.

The pack stopped. They hadn’t been spotted yet, which was unexpected. They had all been prepared for the hunters to hear them coming and start off the attack. However, the Hale pack wasn’t known for their offensive attacks, so the hunters had no reason to expect the pack to come out and meet them in the woods.

The hunters were definitely caught by surprise by the pack suddenly sprinting out of the woods. Most of them were holding weapons, but a lot of them were still in the process of loading their guns and weren’t ready to start shooting.

However they were all seasoned hunters – the best of the best, according to Allison – and it didn’t take them very long for them to get it together and start fighting back.

It was chaos.

The hunters weren’t pulling their punches; they were going for the kill shots. The initial plan had been to immobilize the hunters and scare them away. However that quickly changed, as the pack realised that they had to change their strategy. They would do whatever they had to do.

With every scream or growl from one of the pack members Derek felt the pull to abandon the hunter he was fighting with, and try to protect his pack. Out of the corner of his eye Derek saw Cora fall backwards to dodge a bullet. He growled loudly and lunged towards the man in front of him. Derek tore the gun out of the hunter’s hand, breaking the man’s trigger finger in the process.

Nearby another hunter was yelling at Allison. Asking her why she was fighting with ‘ _disgusting beasts’_. He screamed the old hunter’s code at her. Allison didn’t reply to anything he said, she didn’t answer him or argue. Instead she drew back an arrow and let it fly. The arrow hit the man in the upper thigh and distracted him long enough for Allison to load another arrow. Her second arrow hit the man in the arm, causing him to drop the rifle he was pointing at her.

Stiles appeared between Boyd and a hunter. The werewolf was bleeding profusely from a wound in his side caused by buckshot. Stiles sent the gun the hunter was holding flying away from him, then disappeared before the hunter could react. When Stiles reappeared ten feet away he saw Boyd tackling the hunter to the ground.

Stiles spotted a stack of the hunters’ ammunition. He recognised the insignia on top signifying that the ammo was laced with wolfsbane. Stiles opened one of the boxes and pocketed a handful of the bullets in case they needed the wolfsbane to treat one of the werewolves’ wounds. Stiles flicked his wrist and boxes of ammunition disappeared. He hoped that they had reappeared on the back porch of the Hale house.

It was difficult for Stiles to focus on where he was sending things. The sound of gunshots and the werewolves’ growling and the yelling was completely overwhelming. He wasn’t used to practicing magic in such a violent environment. It was terrifying but also strangely exhilarating.

Stiles saw a hunter lob a smoke grenade at Liam, and changed its course. He sent the grenade further into the woods, away from everyone, where it exploded and the smoke dispersed harmlessly into the air.

Derek was wrestling a gun away from a hunter when Stiles appeared next to him. Stiles pushed the hunter back onto the forest floor, leaving Derek holding the gun. Derek crushed the barrel of the gun easily in his hand, then turned to Stiles.

“I had it under control,” Derek said, although he had a grin on his face.

“I know you did.” Stiles replied with a matching grin. He winked and gave Derek a salute before disappearing once again.

Derek saw Stiles reappear near Kira and disarm another hunter.

Jackson was fighting with an unarmed hunter. The werewolf’s hands were covered in blood as he sunk his claws into the mans’ abdomen. Jackson wasn’t fully shifted; his claws and eyes glowing gold were the only things indicating he was a werewolf.

The pack were outnumber, and the hunters had a huge stash of weapons with them. For every gun the pack destroyed they had two more waiting for them. The hunters also had other weapons like knives and cross bows with them; and they were well trained in using all of them.

The hunters were organised, and once they had noticed Stiles had gotten rid of their wolfsbane ammunition they had rearranged themselves so they were surrounding the remainder of their weapons.

Stiles managed to get rid of or destroy more of the weapons, but it was hard to move more than one or two at a time whilst attempting to dodge bullets from the hunters. None of the pack could get close enough to the weapons stash to do any damage.

Isaac grunted in pain as a wolfsbane laced bullet hit him in the arm. Derek looked around at the young beta who was holding his arm and snarling at the hunter who had shot him. It was distressing to see so many of his pack hurt and bleeding, but Derek moved fast. He was soon by Isaac’s side, and in a flash Stiles joined them. He slipped a lighter and a bullet into Derek’s palm to treat the bullet wound, then disappeared again.

Derek cracked open the bullet with his claws and started to heal Isaac’s injury. Derek heard a hunter cry out in pain, and he looked up to see Scott making sure no one got close to them.

Once Isaac’s arm was okay the three werewolves ran back out towards the hunters. Isaac’s arm was still streaked in black blood, but he didn’t let anything distract him or stop him from getting back in the thick of the fight.

Some of the hunters had been severely injured and retreated a little way back. They were still shooting at the werewolves though. And not even the humans in the pack were safe. They attacked indiscriminately; not only at the wolves, but also at Kira, Allison, Lydia, and Stiles. Although out of the four of them, Stiles was attracting the most attention from the hunters. Getting rid of the witch would give the hunters an advantage.

One of Allison’s arrows whizzed past Stiles’ head, and he was hit with a sudden rush of déjà vu. He remembered the night he had first met the pack, except this time no one was laughing. This time Allison’s arrow hit a hunter square in the chest and the man made a choking sound and stumbled back.

Stiles popped up behind another hunter and sent his gun flying. The man whirled around and knocked Stiles to the ground. He had his hand around Stiles’ throat, cutting off Stiles’ air. Stiles couldn’t disappear with the weight of the man on top of him, and with the hunter’s hand around his throat he couldn’t focus enough to get the man off of him.

The hunter pulled a knife from his pocket, apparently he had decided that strangling Stiles one handed was taking too long. He pulled back and held the knife above Stiles. Without hesitation, the hunter slammed the knife into Stiles’ chest.

That’s when Lydia finally screamed.

The ear-splitting shriek made everyone – werewolves and hunters alike – stop in their tracks. The noise ripped its way out of Lydia’s throat and there was nothing she could do to stop it.

With tears streaming down her face Lydia finally clamped her hand over her mouth, and the forest was eerily silent.

The hunter bent over Stiles was the first to move. He wrenched his knife back out of Stiles’ chest and turned on the nearest pack member; Kira. Another hunter took advantage of Lydia’s distraction to grab her from behind, bringing a knife of his own up to her throat.

Derek roared, a loud, angry sound, laced with hint of desperation that the other wolves could recognise. The werewolf lunged for the man who had stabbed Stiles and tackled him to the ground with ease. The man’s knife slashed across Derek’s chest. However before he could do anymore damage, Derek’s teeth were clamped down on the man’s neck; tearing through flesh, muscle, and tendons.

The other pack members moved as well. Allison let three arrows fly into the man who had his hands on Lydia. Erica took down the man she had been fighting with; claws slashing across his face. Boyd and Isaac took several bullets each, but managed to take down a man and a woman, respectively. Malia, in coyote form, leapt up and got her jaws around a man’s bicep. She managed to get him to the ground then moved her teeth to his neck. Kira, with her sword, took down another woman. Jackson put his claws through a man’s neck. Liam and Scott had a pair of men subdued.

The pack were still outnumbered. More gun shots rang out; Allison took a bullet to the bicep, while Erica took one to the thigh.

Suddenly all of the hunters stopped moving; their weapons dropped to the ground and their mouths opened in silent screams. One by one, they were flung backwards and pinned to the trunks of trees. Twenty of them in total.

Stiles slowly rose to his feet and the pack and hunters looked on in disbelief. Stiles ripped his bloody shirt off. The wound from the knife had healed, leaving a shiny pink scar above his heart in its place.

“Did you really think a knife would stop me?” Stiles asked.

It didn’t sound like Stiles. Not really. Not the Stiles Derek and the pack knew. Stiles’ voice was teasing, but it wasn’t the same voice he used when teasing Scott, or arguing with Jackson. He sounded older and more dangerous than ever before.

Stiles barely moved a muscle, and three of the hunters’ necks snapped, their bodies falling to the forest floor with dull thuds.

The air was buzzing; the magic pouring off of Stiles almost tangible. It made the hair on the back of Derek’s neck stand on end. To the werewolves the magic in the air felt almost like the pull of the full moon. Derek wasn’t shifted anymore, and he could feel his fangs ready to break through again. He struggled to keep himself together; he felt like a teenager again, helpless against the pull of the moon. All of the other werewolves were the same, their bodies tensed and trying to keep control. The black lines of the tattoos on Stiles’ back were glowing faintly as magic coursed through his body.

Lydia and Scott had made their way over to Allison, who was on the ground. Scott had his hand pressed against the bullet wound in her arm. Her jacket was torn open and soaked with blood. The rest of the pack slowly followed Scott and Lydia’s lead, congregating in the same area.

None of them took their eyes off of Stiles though.

One by one the hunters died. Some more had their neck snapped. Others suffocated. A few drowned in their own blood. The one who had shot Allison and Erica let out a silent scream as her internal organs were crushed. Stiles barely blinked.

When Stiles reached the last two he moved them away from the tree, and manipulated them until they were on their knees in front of him.

“The two of you are going to take your dead and leave,” Stiles said. “You’re going to tell every hunter you know what happened here tonight. You’re going to spread the word that the Hale pack is protected. Do you understand?”

The older of the two, a man with dirty blonde hair and a large scar across his forehead, shook his head; his mouth forming the shape of profanities.

Stiles flicked his wrist and the man’s neck snapped.

“Do _you_ understand?” Stiles asked the younger hunter. “Or do I have to spread the word myself?”

The hunter nodded wildly and Stiles gave him his voice back. “I’ll tell them,” the hunter said. “I’ll tell everyone.”

Stiles let the hunter scramble to his feet. The man ran away from Stiles and the pack as fast as he could move.

“Stiles,” Derek said softly. He was the only one to speak.

Stiles turned to face the pack. There were all streaked with dirt, blood, and sweat, and were staring at him in disbelief and awe.

“You were dead,” Lydia’s voice was barely more than a whisper. “I screamed for you.”

“No,” Stiles said, far too cheerfully for the situation at hand. “I was _going_ to die, and I was very, very, very close to it. I think it was the hunters’ deaths you were predicting.”

Stiles closed the distance between himself and the pack. “Anyway,” he said. “We should get going. We need to get Allison to a hospital, and we need to treat everyone else’s wounds.”

“I’m fine,” Allison said, although she winced in pain as Scott helped her to her feet. “It was only a grazing blow.” She showed Stiles her arm. She was right, there was a lot of blood, but the bullet wasn’t buried in her arm.

The pack slowly made their way back to the house. Erica, Boyd, Isaac, and Jackson all limping slightly due to the bullets that were still trapped in their bodies. None of them looked forward to the prospect of having to dig them out. At least there hadn’t been any more serious wolfsbane injuries.

Once they were all within the safety of the house, Stiles slumped down into one of the kitchen chairs. He was looking pale and drawn. His bag was sitting on the kitchen table, he wasn’t sure who had brought it back inside. He pulled it towards him and dug out a small jar full of a dirty green paste.

“Scott,” Stiles said. “Put this on Allison’s wound, it will help with the healing.” He tossed the jar to the werewolf who was standing with Allison and Lydia.

Derek pulled off his own ruined and bloodied shirt, dropping it onto the floor just inside the door. His face and neck was still covered in blood. He ordered the betas to sit down so they could start getting the bullets out, then he knelt down in front of Stiles.

“Are you okay?” Derek asked.

“I’ll be fine,” Stiles told him. “Using that much magic just took a lot out of me. I told you the more complicated life form is the harder it is; and nothing is more complicated than humans. You should be worrying about your pack.”

“I am,” Derek said, the slightest hint of a smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

Derek put his hand on Stiles’ knee. Stiles returned the small smile and placed his hand over Derek’s.

***

It was well past dawn by the time everyone’s wounds had been treated.

Lydia had stitched up Allison’s shoulder. It had taken a while, but finally all of the bullets had been dug out of the werewolves’ bodies. And Stiles was resting, his body needed time to recuperate from the intense pressure he had put on it.

Everyone slowly filtered out of the kitchen turned makeshift operating theatre, to go get some much needed rest. Soon it was just Stiles and Derek left, who had moved into the living room where it was more comfortable.

Derek was sitting on the floor in front of one of the arm chairs. He was sorting through the supplies from the first aid kits, and making a list of what they needed to replace. Stiles was lying on his side on the couch watching Derek.

“Needles,” Stiles said quietly.

“Hmm?” Derek looked up at Stiles.

“You need needles,” Stiles clarified. He pointed his finger to the empty packet that was lying beside Derek, and made it levitate about a foot in the air. Derek plucked the packet out of mid-air.

“Are you feeling better?” Derek asked, adding needles to the list.

“A little,” Stiles said. “Although I was trying to flick you in the head with the packet of needles.”

Derek chuckled and set his list down on the coffee table in front of him. He stretched his arms up above his head and felt his shoulders crack.

Stiles sat up and stretched as well, cracking his neck. He could feel the tingle of magic flow through him as he moved. He flicked the lights off and on just because he could; it felt good to have his power back up to almost normal levels.

Derek rolled his eyes. “We get enough of Kira messing with the lights,” he said, although he had a smile on his face.

Stiles smirked at Derek and threw open the curtains. The morning sun filtered in through the large windows, and bathed the two men in the warm light.

Derek closed his eyes and listened to the house. He focused on the heartbeats of all the pack members; they were all safe and sleeping. The fatigue hit Derek like a brick wall, it was almost impossible to keep his eyes open. Derek stifled a yawn with his hand, the action triggering a yawn from Stiles as well.

“I think we should sleep as well,” Stiles said. “Since you already sent the others to bed.”

“I did not send them to bed,” Derek replied. “But, yeah, I think you’re right.” He scrubbed a hand across the side of his face.

Stiles stood up and started gathering his things that were spread out across the floor and coffee table.

“That doesn’t mean you have to leave,” Derek said. “You can stay here the night. Or the day, I guess.”

Stiles sat back down on the couch. “This couch is pretty comfy,” he said. “I guess I can stay.”

“I’m not going to make you sleep on the couch,” Derek said. “You can sleep in my bed. I’ll take the couch.”

“I’m not kicking you out of your own bed,” Stiles said, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Well, you’re not sleeping on the couch.” Derek mirrored Stiles’ movements.  

“Fine.” In the blink of an eye Stiles was gone from the couch.

Derek scrambled to his feet and headed out of the living room. He was unsure if Stiles was still in the house or if he really had left. “Stiles?” Derek called out cautiously.

“I just realised I don’t know which one your bedroom is,” Stiles said from the top of the stairs.

Derek turned around and smiled up at the younger man who was looking at him expectantly. “I’ll show you.”

Derek’s room was pretty much exactly what Stiles had expected. It was neat and minimalistic, but Derek’s personality shone through. His bed was unmade and there were books piled up on the bedside table. A triskele was painted above the head of the bed, and another adorned the top of a chest that was pushed up against the far wall.

“Can I ask you something?” Stiles asked.

“Sure,” Derek said. His back was to Stiles as he dug through his wardrobe.

“Why’d you send me with Scott’s group?” Stiles asked. “Why didn’t you let me stay with you?”

Derek turned around, his hands empty. “I trusted you to keep an eye on them,” he said. “Plus, you and Scott make a pretty good team.”

Stiles laughed. It was a bright sound that broke through the fog of Derek’s fatigue, and made the wry smile on Derek’s face turn into a real one.

“Do you want a pair of sweatpants to wear?” Derek asked, turning back to his wardrobe.

Stiles looked down at his blood and dirt stained jeans. “Yeah,” he said. “That’d be great.”

Derek tossed a pair of grey sweatpants to Stiles. Stiles held them in the crook of his arm as he undid his jeans one handed. As he pulled his jeans down Derek noticed a tattoo on his thigh, just below the line of his boxers. The tattoo was a name framed by sprigs of rosemary.

Stiles noticed Derek looking at the tattoo. “Claudia was my mom’s name,” he explained. He wasn’t in the slightest embarrassed to have Derek looking at him while he undressed.  

Derek nodded and turned back to his wardrobe. While Stiles changed, Derek took off his own jeans and pulled on a pair of black sweatpants.

Once the two men were both changed they stood awkwardly for a moment. Derek made the first move. He walked over to the bed and pulled back the rumpled covers. Stiles walked around the bed to the other side.

The two men got into bed and lay facing each other. Derek’s eyes drifted down to the scar on Stiles’ chest. Stiles brought his hand up and covered the scar with his palm.

“It was worth it,” Stiles whispered.

Derek looked Stiles in the eyes and shifted closer. Even with the curtains drawn warm morning light still lit up Stiles’ face. Although Derek was finding it hard to keep his eyes open. His whole body ached and his bed was so comfortable.

Stiles blinked slowly, a small smile on his lips. He closed the distance between himself and Derek, and pressed a chaste kiss to Derek’s lips.

Derek brought a hand up and wrapped it loosely around Stiles’ bicep. He rested his forehead against Stiles’ and finally closed his eyes. Stiles pulled the covers up over them to block out the light.

It was easy for the two of them to slip into sleep. It was warm and comfortable and safe wrapped up in each other under the blankets.

In their sleep the two men drifted closer together until Derek’s head was pressed against Stiles’ chest, his cheek against the fresh scar.  

***

A week after the fight in the woods Derek dropped by Stiles’ place to see him. The two men had seen each other since that night, but they hadn’t had a chance to talk properly, privately; other pack members had always been around, (eager to see Stiles, and always eager to listen in on private conversations).

The front door opened before Derek could knock; just like the first time Derek had visited Stiles. This time Derek shook his head with a fond smile on his face.

“I promise I’m actually in the kitchen! Stiles called out to Derek.

Stiles was standing at the counter, crushing herbs, with his back to Derek. There was a pot bubbling on the stovetop that Stiles was adding the herbs to. Stiles was shirtless, and Derek’s eyes followed Stiles’ tattoos down the line of his spine to his ass. Derek quickly tore his gaze away and cleared his throat.

“Food or potion?” Derek asked.

Stiles looked over his shoulder at Derek and gave him a wide grin. “If you’re feeling brave it could be both.”

Derek let out a small laugh and dipped his head, looking at the ground. Stiles finished what he was doing with the herbs and turned around to face Derek properly. That’s when Derek noticed the small piece of gauze taped to Stiles chest. It was in the same place Stiles had been stabbed.

“Are you okay?” Derek automatically closed the distance between them and his fingers hovered above the gauze. “I thought the knife wound healed?”

“It did,” Stiles told him. “I got a new tattoo. Do you want to see it?”

Derek took his hand away and nodded. “Yeah.”

Stiles brought his hand up and started to peel the gauze away. Just before he revealed it he paused. “I hope this is okay,” he said.

“What do you mean?” Derek asked.

In way of answer Stiles removed the gauze completely to show the new tattoo. The slim black lines inked on Stiles’ skin formed a triskele; a smaller version of the one on Derek’s back. Derek brought his own hand back up again, and this time he touched Stiles. He ran his fingers across the scar, then traced the lines of the fresh tattoo. Stiles’ heart was beating like a jackhammer under Derek’s fingertips.

“Is it okay?” Stiles asked.

“It’s,” Derek shook his head in amazement and disbelief. “It’s perfect.”

Stiles’ cheeks went pink but he beamed at Derek’s words.

Derek brought his other hand up and cupped the side of Stiles’ face. Derek kissed Stiles. Properly this time, not like the chaste kiss the morning after the fight. It was a real, deep kiss. Stiles mouth was lush and warm, and opened willingly for Derek.

Stiles fisted his hand in Derek’s t-shirt and pulled the older man closer. Derek crowded Stiles up against the counter so their bodies were pressed flush together. Stiles had one hand on Derek’s hip and the other ran over his back; where he knew Derek’s tattoo was.

There was a sudden, high-pitched whistling sound that made Stiles push Derek back sharply.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” Stiles muttered under his breath. He quickly took the still bubbling pot off the heat. The pot was letting off green tinged smoke, and was starting to smell terrible.

Derek wrinkled his nose. “What is that anyway?” he asked.

“I _was_ trying to make more of that paste that I gave to Allison,” Stiles said. “I figured it might come in handy to have more around.” Stiles put the pot in the sink and started running cold water over the congealing paste. “Then _someone_ distracted me, and now it’s ruined.”

Derek wrapped his arms around Stiles’ waist and put his chin on Stiles’ shoulder. “I’d say that we don’t need any kind of healing paste,” Derek said. “But with our luck something tells me we will.”

“You are such a joy to be around,” Stiles said. “Your sunny disposition is what I like about you.” Derek hummed, and Stiles wasn’t sure if it was in agreement or disapproval. “That and your conversation skills,” he continued. Stiles turned the water off and leaned back against Derek.

Derek scraped his cheek against the side of Stiles’ neck, then let go of Stiles’ waist and pulled back. Stiles turned around and watched Derek disappear out of the kitchen and into the living room. Stiles followed the werewolf.

Stiles’ living room was like the rest of the house. It was an organised mess. Bookshelves lined the walls, and they were all full. There were more potted plants and trinkets on the floor. Above the fireplace there was a large map of Beacon Hills; the Hale territory line was highlighted in green.

Stiles leaned against the door frame and watched Derek look around. Every now and again Derek would pick something up, examine it, and then set it back down in its proper place.

“You know,” Derek said, holding a small crystal on a chain. “I realised I’ve never seen much of your house. When we’ve been here we’ve either been in the kitchen or out in the backyard.”

Stiles smiled at Derek. “You’re welcome to see any part of the house you want,” he said, walking towards Derek. “The living room, the study, the bathroom, my room.” Stiles was right in front of Derek and put his hands on Derek’s chest.

“Your room,” Derek said, raising one eyebrow with a smirk

“Yep,” Stiles nodded.

Derek went to wrap his arms around Stiles, but his arms met nothing but air. Stiles had disappeared again.

“You have to catch me first!” Stiles’ voice echoed through the house.

Derek laughed to himself, then headed for the stairs to the second floor.

**Author's Note:**

> i had so much fun writing this, i really hope you like it!!


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